


Park's Twelve

by London9Calling



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Blood and Violence, Dubious Morality, Eventual Smut, Exes to Lovers, Explicit Language, Future tags may be triggering to some, Gangsters, Heist, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, MAMA Era Powers (EXO), Movie: Ocean's Eleven, Multiple Pairings, Mutual Pining, Organized Crime, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Side Lu Han/ Minseok, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2020-10-27 13:51:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20761403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/London9Calling/pseuds/London9Calling
Summary: Twelve men with super powers, two casinos, three hundred million dollars, and maybe a love story or two. AKA the Ocean’s 11 /Mama Powers AU mashup I can’t shut up about on Twitter.





	1. Here Comes Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my self indulgent mess:) Major thanks to people who are giving this a chance, I really appreciate it! Updates may be infrequent, so please bear with me. I am studying for a major exam, so that comes first.
> 
> Please note that the plot will not be exactly that of Oceans 11. I haven’t watched the movie in a looooong time and don’t plan on rewatching it now because of just that - I don’t want it to be a copy paste of the plot. So yeah, expect the unexpected. Super powers. Crime stuff. Bad humor. All that jazz. 
> 
> Cheers!  
<3 L9C

_January 2019_

_Busan, Republic of Korea_

Being shot at before noon was never Chanyeol’s idea of a good time. Afternoon bullets, well that was negotiable; it really depended on who was doing the shooting and how likely he was to walk out with nothing more than a pissed off mood and a few grazes on his skin. Fuck, gangsters nowadays really didn’t know how to shoot.

Before noon, well that was just criminal in every aspect.

Chanyeol sucked in a breath, his back pressed firmly against a rusty cargo container. He held his silver pistol, finger on the trigger. He could smell the acrid scent of gunfire. Bullets whizzed past, ricocheting against the large orange cargo container to his right. Overhead the sky was cloudy, it looked like it might rain.

He glanced down and noticed that his shirt had a tear in it.

“Fucking hell.”

“What?”

“I ripped my shirt.” Chanyeol frowned at the tear. It was his favorite shirt. He loved that shirt. Bought it at a tiny market down by Haeundae Beach. It was multi-colored, with tiny sailboats. It went over everything.

“Don’t you have like ten of those shirts?” Sehun asked. He was standing next to Chanyeol, gun in one hand, cigarette in the other. He dangled the smoke between his fingers. “I need a light.”

“Now?” Chanyeol blinked at his partner-in-crime.

“Yeah, _now_. In case you forgot we still need to get the fuck out of here. This is probably the last one I’ll have for a while.” Sehun held out the cigarette.

Chanyeol sighed. He raised his finger, a tiny flame shooting out of his fingertip. He brought the flame to the tip of the cigarette. Sehun sucked in, blowing out a puff of smoke

“Thanks.”

“You should really quit.”

“I know.” Sehun inhaled, then exhaled a smoke ring.

More bullets flew past them.

“Any ideas?” Chanyeol knew this was bad. Annoying. Inconvenient. A whole lot of things that all equated to being in deep shit with the people no one wanted to be in deep shit with.

Sehun shook his head, ash from his cigarette falling onto the deck of the ocean freighter.

It was supposed to be routine, or as routine as drug smuggling with a group of pissed off Triads could be. They had done it a handful of times and never had an issue -- the Russians showing up and stealing the inventory was never part of the plan. Now they were out of drugs and out of time with the Triads, who meant to end their miserable lives for fucking them over.

Everything was coming up roses.

Chanyeol bit his bottom lip. He tried to remember what ships were at the port, how close they were, if there was any way they could make a break and run for one of them.

Sehun’s arm flew out, gun blasting off a round that whizzed past Chanyeol. A triad member groaned and fell to the deck, blood spurting out of a wound in his stomach, his gun dropping to the deck of the ship. Chanyeol hadn’t even seen him come around the corner. Shit.

“I think there’s a Japanese ocean liner moored two ships over.” Chanyeol breathed. “Think we can make it?”

Sehun shrugged. He took one last puff off his cigarette before tossing it next to the man who was quickly bleeding out, his face growing pale with each passing second. “Only one way to find out.”

Chanyeol nodded. “Alright. On the count of two.”

“One,” Sehun started.

“Two,” they shouted in unison, springing from their hiding spot, guns in hand.

_August 2019_

_Mojave Desert, Nevada, United States of America_

“You’re not making any sense.”

“How is saying I would marry, fuck, and kill Lizzo not making any sense?” Sehun slammed his hand down on the wide dash of the convertible. “It means I like her for everything.”

Chanyeol gripped the wheel, his foot pressing on the silver gas pedal. He had stopped paying attention to the speed limit back in California. The road was too dusty, the weather too hot, the convertible top too impossible to raise for him to care about the speed limit. “You have to pick one, and we both know you would never fuck a chick, so that automatically excludes an option.”

“No, we both don’t know I would never fuck a chick.” Sehun snorted. “Plus Lizzo is better than any other human so-”

Chanyeol glanced over at his passenger. “I’ve known you since you were fourteen and you’ve never--”

“Watch out!” Sehun shouted, arm jutting out, finger pointing towards the middle of the road. It was too late.

Chanyeol collided with the armadillo, the front wheel passing over the animal, followed by a loud pop and the car immediately swerved hard to the right.

Chanyeol grabbed the wheel, trying to maintain control of the vehicle. The tires skidded along the asphalt, the front end bumping up then down as the car veered into the brown dirt that surrounded the road.

When the car came to a stop, smoke was rising up from the engine and there was a pronounced lean to one side. Sehun was rubbing his head from where it hit against the dash. Chanyeol blinked, shocked at the speed of what had just happened.

He tried to step on the gas to drive back on the road, but the car was dead.

“Fuck,” Chanyeol seethed, hitting the steering wheel in frustration.

“Looks like we blew a tire,” Sehun said, leaning out to look at the front of the car. “And probably fucked up the front end.”

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” It had to be close to one hundred degrees outside, the sun was sweltering. “Fuck.”

“You said that already,” Sehun drawled, pulling out his cellphone. “Ah, and there’s no reception out here.”

Chanyeol gritted his teeth. The last town they had passed was at least five miles away, down the dirty, hot road. They hadn’t passed another car for miles and with no cell reception they couldn’t call for help.

“Guess we need to walk. Come on.” Sehun pushed open the door and stepped out.

Chanyeol followed suit, swearing under his breath as he got out of the car. One glance down at the front told him the thing was all but wrecked.

“You better keep us cool while we walk,” Chanyeol ordered, wagging his finger at Sehun.

“On it.” Sehun shoved his hands in his pockets and kept his head down. A few seconds later a breeze rushed past them.

It wasn’t cold, but it helped.

_August 2019_

_Las Vegas, Nevada, United States of America_

Byun Baekhyun knew trouble when he saw it. Fuck, he had practically helped define the word. Not that anyone would know it now, of course. Not one of the middle aged women in the audience, with their hair drenched in hairspray, their cubic zirconia necklaces resting on their ugly shirts and dresses would ever guess his past. To them he was a handsome young man to fawn over, to stare lovingly at, to project their deepest fantasies and constant disappointment upon. He was a bright young thing who wouldn't hurt a fly.

It helped that he was really good at winking.

“This next number is something I would like to dedicate to all of the mothers out there,” Baekhyun crooned into the silver microphone. “Because you’re all so beautiful.” He winked and half a dozen women audibly sighed with unbridled happiness.

A second later a light was illuminating him, a backdrop to highlight his form fitting velvet tuxedo, the little rhinestones on the lapel catching in the light. He crooned into the microphone, the words he knew by heart. Hell, he had been singing them every night for the last three years, bringing his own brand of joy and showmanship to the midlevel casino tucked back on Fremont Street.

The words came easy, which meant he had time to look around, to take in the audience. And that, that is when he saw trouble.

Park Chanyeol and Oh Sehun sat ten rows back, sticking out in the crowd of women like a sore thumb. He made the briefest eye contact with Sehun and damn if he didn’t smirk.

Trouble, it seemed, couldn’t be so easily forgotten. Trouble had come calling, and Baekhyun had no place to hide.

“One hundred million dollars.”

Baekhyun spit out his seltzer water, covering his dressing room mirror in it.

“You asked.” Chanyeol shrugged. He was sitting on the pink sofa that had seen better days. The small dressing room smelled like stale cigarette smoke and cheap perfume. “How long have you been playing here?”

Baekhyun wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Three years and how in the hell did you end up owing a Triad the GDP of a small island nation?”

“The Russians,” Sehun answered, like it explained everything. “Ah, and interest. They are charging interest too.”

Baekhyun slumped down onto the pink powder puff stool in front of the vanity. When he had finished his set, his two old associates were waiting for him backstage. He didn’t care to ask how they got in.

“And if you don’t pay?”

“Dead.” Chanyeol made a cutting motion across his neck. “Maybe my family too. I don’t know.”

Baekhyun thought back to Park Yoora, the kind older sister that Chanyeol had been a constant torment to back in the day. He frowned at the idea she could be harmed. “Why didn’t you two stay out of trouble after we were discharged? Is it that hard?”

Sehun tilted his head to the side. It reminded Baekhyun of the Sehun he knew years ago, the fresh faced kid who had ended up in the harsh reality of the military. “We have to make a living somehow. The army isn’t paying us anymore.”

Baekhyun had a dozen arguments at the tip of his tongue but he swallowed them down. “I’m guessing you didn’t come here just to tell me you owe Triads a bunch of money.” He stared into the vanity mirror, blinking at his own reflection.

“You up for some fun?” Chanyeol asked. They made eye contact in the mirror. Chanyeol leaned forward, hands clasped together. He still had the light in his eyes that Baekhyun remembered, the enthusiasm for living, the foolish energy that got him into trouble time and time again for as long as Baekhyun had known him.

“What?”

“Two casinos,” Chanyeol answered. “Three hundred million dollars. New Year’s Eve.”

“You’re crazy.” Baekhyun swiveled on the stool. “That’s it. You’ve both lost your minds.”

Sehun clucked his tongue. “No. We have a plan.”

“Do you have any idea how well guarded the casinos are?” Baekhyun couldn’t believe they were even considering it. He thought it was common knowledge that Las Vegas casinos were secured better than Fort Knox.

“Like Sehun said, we have a plan. But we need your help.”

“What’s in it for me? Huh?” Baekhyun narrowed his eyes at his old comrades. “If I go along with it, supposing you do have some kind of plan that would actually work, what do I get?”

“Two hundred million dollars split ten ways. The other hundred million we use to pay off our debt. Sehun and I will carry as much of the risk as we can and you get to ride off into the sunset with twenty million in cash, no questions asked.” Chanyeol answered, putting emphasis on the words twenty million.

Baekhyun swallowed. Shit, that was a lot of money. A lot of money that he would never make singing love songs to middle aged female tourists at some half-baked casino that was well past its prime. And he knew Chanyeol and Sehun were trustworthy, if not a tad bit grandiose in their schemes.

Then it registered.

“Wait, did you say ten ways?” Baekhyun blurted out.

Chanyeol nodded. “Yeah. We’re going to get the squad back together, so ten.”

“Shit,” Baekhyun whistled. “You’re serious.”

“Dead serious.” Chanyeol leaned back and crossed his legs. “I don't really have another option. So, are you in?”

“Who else has said yes?” He needed to know.

“You’re the first we asked,” Sehun answered.

“What about Kyungsoo? I thought he was with you guys.” Baekhyun blinked in confusion. The last he had heard, which admittingly was years ago, the trio had been inseparable. He noticed the way Chanyeol stiffened, shoulders tensing.

Chanyeol’s staid tone didn’t betray what his body language had. “I haven’t seen Kyungsoo in three years. Now, are you in?”

Baekhyun mentally tallied the risks. The rewards. The potential for prison time. The fact he was a new man and- “Yeah. I’m in.”

Sehun broke into a smile. “Good. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“Hey, one quick question.” Baekhyun had noticed the dirt on the bottom of his friend’s jeans. Their shoes were filthy and he knew Sehun was extremely particular about his footwear. “You guys look like shit. What happened?” He gestured towards the dirt.

“We got in a fight with an armadillo this afternoon.” Chanyeol stood up. “But we won.”

Chanyeol slid his dog tag between his fingers, fiddling with the metal he stared up at the ceiling, lost in thought. He still wore it after so many years, even if it meant very different things in retrospect.

_ROK Army_

_1082619412_

_Park Chanyeol_

_A+_

He heard the shower shut off in the bathroom. Sehun was humming a song that Chanyeol didn’t recognize.

They had snagged a room in the hotel-casino that Baekhyun performed at, a crappy unit tucked in the back of the place. Chanyeol thought he saw a cockroach when he first opened the door. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do for the night and maybe a few more. At least until they got back on their feet, which would probably coincide with their recruiting efforts.

Byun Baekhyun, check. One down, nine more to go. Some would be easy -- Baekhyun said Jongin was in town, so was Lu Han. Others would be more difficult, like Kyungsoo. Chanyeol had no idea where he was or even if he would consider the plan.

“You’re sleeping on the floor,” Sehun sing-singed as he stepped out of the bathroom. “The bed isn’t big enough.”

“Fuck you,” Chanyeol hissed.

“No thank you.” Sehun padded over to the bed. “I’m saving that for Lizzo.”

Chanyeol sighed. He grabbed a pillow and rolled towards the edge of the bed.

“Fine, but you get the floor tomorrow night.”

“Whatever,” Sehun mumbled, climbing into bed. “Sweet dreams, Sargent Park.”

_Sergeant Park Chanyeol._ It had been a long time since anyone had called him that, even in jest.

Fitting, he thought as he closed his eyes, that Sehun would tease him with it now he was getting the squad back together.


	2. A Boy and his Dog

“He isn’t the same Kim Jongin you remember.” Baekhyun’s hands slid along the steering wheel as he took a soft left, heading towards the Strip. “Shit’s changed, yunno.”

Chanyeol stared out the window. He watched as the seedy rundown storefronts of Fremont Street and the old Vegas gave way to the tacky glitz and glamor of new Vegas, a perceptible shift the closer they got to the Strip. He tapped his fingers on the car door, keeping up an unknown beat. He was feeling restless, ready to get things going, ready to plan but knowing he needed to take his time. He couldn’t fuck it up, he already had lost enough with the bad deal in Busan. 

“How’s he different?” Sehun asked from the backseat. He puffed on a cigarette, blowing the smoke out of the rolled down window.

“You’ll see,” Baekhyun answered cryptically. The car chugged once, then twice but didn’t stop.

Chanyeol tried to ignore the noise from the car. Baekhyun drove a Buick, it was a god-awful ugly car that Chanyeol wouldn’t be caught dead in if he had a choice. And it ran like shit.

“He’s working on the Strip so he must be doing well,” Sehun hazarded a guess.

Baekhyun’s silence spoke volumes.

If he could speak fluent English, he wouldn’t have to be the quiet one, which would undoubtedly make him happier… Or so that's how he explained the miserable, nagging feeling of failure every time he got up in the morning and trudged to work. Maybe he should have kept working at the pawn shop. Fuck.

“You all see Nini, don’t you?” The caped and masked man pointed towards Jongin with a flourish of his hands. “He is most definitely here, is he not?”

The lights were dim in the small theater, not the overpowering spotlight of the evening shows. Jongin was standing in the middle of the stage, a false smile plastered on his face, a middle-aged man in an awful magician get-up stood next to him. The walls were painted with red and white stripes to mimic the inside of a circus tent.

The children in the audience nodded, some shouted “yes” so loud it hurt Jongin’s ears. He used to flinch at the chorus of young voices, they were always gratingly off key. Cute kids, but the noise….

“Now, using only my powers, I will make Nini disappear!” The man announced, grabbing for a familiar white sheet. “Any last words, Nini?”

Jongin shook his head, smiling at the crowd. The children were captivated, and he could admit it was cute the way they watched with such serious faces. Kids were great. It made him miss his niece and nephew. How long had it been since he last saw them...?

“Very well. Let us say goodbye to Nini!” The man threw the white sheet over Jongin, which was his cue.

Jongin closed his eyes tightly and focused, letting the raw heat travel from his core outwards to his limbs. He knew the exact moment he had teleported, it always felt the same and it was never something he could describe with words. He just knew one moment he was there and the other he was somewhere else.

He opened his eyes, blinking as he refocused. He was backstage, where he could still clearly hear the stage show. The children were making noise, some crying, some clapping their hands. Jongin began to count in his head, down from thirty, towards the time he would magically reappear on stage and end the show.

The first time he had used his powers as part of the act he felt a surge of adrenaline; a hint of danger. He was doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing, and suddenly he felt alive. It was an old feeling, the one he used to experience all the time but now it had been so long he barely remembered it. He was sure the magician would notice he didn’t take the crappy trap door off the stage, but if he did, he didn’t say anything. And so Jongin kept doing it.

Fuck, the things he did to pay the bills.

“If a clown comes near me, I’m going to shoot it.” Sehun eyed the long hallway with suspicion, hand going to his waistband.

“There aren’t any clowns wandering around for fucks sake,” Baekhyun hissed.

Chanyeol hated clowns. “I got your back.”

“Thanks, man.” Sehun glanced behind them. “Fuck, a circus themed hotel who in the fuck thought of this?”

“Nightmare fuel,” Chanyeol murmured.

“Come on, it’s back this way.” Baekhyun shoved at Chanyeol’s arm to get him moving. “Just remember what I told you.”

“Don’t call him Nini,” Chanyeol and Sehun said in unison.

“Exactly.”

“Hey, good show.” The magician clapped Jongin on the back, grinning widely. “Remember, we have three shows tomorrow.” He shot Jongin cheesy finger guns before continuing towards the exit, his magician’s outfit changed out for a Hawaiian shirt and dad jeans.

“I remember.” Jongin called after him. He couldn’t exactly forget. This gig was his only income. He had spent the last year looking for something that wasn’t retail or a service job, and this is what he had landed on. The pay still wasn’t great, only marginally more than any of his other, less desirable options, but it was something. And he could use his talents, which made him feel a strange mix of nostalgic and useful.

And It was legit work, nothing shady about it. Legal. He got to make kids happy, so that was nice.

Still, he felt like he was missing something, that he should be doing better. That this long after the army he should have made something of his life. Become someone. Maybe have a family of his own. Gone to school, or at least ran one successful racket and gotten away with it.

“Fuck I was afraid you’d be a clown.”

Jongin whirled around to see three very familiar faces staring at him, cutting a wide in the cramped hall. He narrowed his eyes, not quite believing what he was seeing.

“Jongin,” Chanyeol spoke slowly.

“Sarge,” Jongin blurted out. “What are you doing here?”

“Got a minute?” Chanyeol asked. “We need to talk.”

Kim Jongin was the best Forward Observer in the squad. Quick witted, logical, thorough, quiet, dedicated, stubborn. He had the qualities that made him an excellent scout, and he proved his worth time and time again back when their lives belonged to the ROK.

He was also a hell of a gambler, a great liar, and had too much charisma for a country boy. He laughed too much and was as dumb as Chanyeol on his good days. Fuck, Chanyeol loved him like a brother.

“I don’t know. Guys, I’m legit now. Legal.” Jongin frowned. “I haven’t done anything bad since I got to the States.”

“You’re working at Circus Circus so that’s debatable,” Sehun drawled.

Jongin opened his mouth to argue but Chanyeol cut him off. “It’s a lot of money, Jongin. Enough money to take care of your niece and nephew for life.”

Chanyeol was good at reading people. He paid attention to Jongin’s body language, to the barely-there flickers of emotion that passed over him while Chanyeol explained the plan. He could tell that no matter what Jongin said, he hadn’t changed that much. Not really. He wasn’t smiling as much as Chanyeol remembered, but happiness isn't a personality trait.

“Think about it. When you make up your mind, give me a call.” Chanyeol scrawled his number down on the back of a business card he plucked from Baekhyun’s car. He handed it to his old comrade.

Jongin eyed the card for a moment before taking it. He looked down at Chanyeol’s messy handwriting. “Am I the last one?”

“No.” Chanyeol crossed his arms across his chest.

“You’re the second,” Baekhyun chimed in. “These idiots got into town yesterday.”

“Fuck you,” Chanyeol hissed.

“No thanks, Kyungsoo would kill me and I’m too young and pretty to die,” Baekhyun said without missing a beat. The mention of the name caught Jongin’s attention.

“Where’s Kyungsoo Hyung, anyway?” Jongin asked, seemingly confused as to why he wasn’t with the group.

Chanyeol shrugged, hoping he looked unbothered. “Not sure. He’s on the list though.”

_Down on the list. As far down as he could be. _

Jongin accepted the answer without further questions. A few minutes later the trio were walking out of the small theater, Sehun’s hand still perched perilously close to where he had concealed his gun.

“Fucking clowns,” he hissed, looking both ways before taking a step towards the exit.

Four months. He had four months to put everything in place. Four months to get the guys on board, four months to fine tune the plan. Four months to get Sehun and him on good terms with the Triad, so they didn't end up back in Busan in little pieces. Fuck.

Chanyeol stared into his Bourbon. The drink had cost him twenty-five dollars, which was fucking outrageous. He wouldn’t have bought it if he wasn’t expecting Sehun to waltz into the bar at any moment, their money woes solved.

“Lu Han hangs out at Caesars,” Baekhyun said, eyes glued to his phone screen. “Haven’t seen him in a while but he was always there a few months ago. Doubt he’s changed his routine too much, dude has a problem.”

Chanyeol sipped his drink, letting the liquor slide over his tongue, years of practice stopping him from cringing at the taste. “What about Tao?”

“Hm?” Baekhyun looked up from the screen. “Oh, Tao. Um, well. I am not exactly sure where he is. Fuck, what is with these guys and not having a Facebook. It makes it impossible to track them all down.”

“Being an ex-military criminal with supernatural powers makes you avoid social media,” Chanyeol noted. “Or at least that is why I don’t have one.”

“You don’t have to make it sound so complex, geez.” Baekhyun slipped his phone into his jacket pocket. He picked up his drink, a bottle of some import beer Chanyeol had never heard of. He drank it down, sliding the empty bottle towards the bartender. “I have a show in a few hours, so you’ll have to do your moody sulking alone.”

Baekhyun reached over and pated Chanyeol’s shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll figure everything out, or at least die with a scowl on your face trying.”

“Fuck you.”

“Again, no. I value my life too much and Kyungsoo would most definitely kill me.” Baekhyun suddenly smirked and leaned against the bar, closing in on Chanyeol’s personal space. He lowered his voice to a whisper and asked, “So what's the deal? Are you gonna tell me about Kyungsoo or pretend like you two weren’t fucking every day for four years?”

Chanyeol answered by taking another drink of his bourbon and staring straight ahead.

Baekhyun sighed. “Suit yourself, Sarge.” He turned and strolled from the bar, leaving Chanyeol alone.

He didn’t realize until a minute later that Baekhyun had left them without a car. He turned to call after his old friend but Baekhyun was long gone.

“Shit.” Where had Sehun run off to?

With impeccable timing, Oh Sehun appeared at the entrance to the bar. He was dressed in all black, a black suit and black shirt. Even Chanyeol could admit he cut a dashing figure - which was really the point, or at least that is what Chanyeol assumed was the point. Sehun had disappeared shortly after they met up with Jongin, saying something about getting them some money so they could move out of the crappy hotel room they were sharing in Old Vegas.

He didn't ask any more questions, content to wait it out. He had a lot on his mind, too much to trail after Sehun to find out what he was planning.

“Sir, you can’t bring that here,” the bar hostess said loudly.

“It’s okay, this is my emotional support animal.” Sehun held up a fluffy white dog. The dog was panting and looked a little out of sorts. “He keeps me from shooting people.”

The hostess gaped at Sehun and was probably ready to scream or call for security, neither of which she had a chance to do because Chanyeol swooped in between her and the object of her outrage. He put his arm around Sehun’s shoulders and turned him around, walking from the bar that way.

“What in the hell is that?” Chanyeol hissed.

“Money,” Sehun whispered, hugging the dog to his chest.

The dog burrowed its head into Sehun’s jacket.

“It looks like a fucking sheep to me.” Chanyeol steered them towards the nearest exit.

“He’s a Bichon Frise, prize bloodline. They’re having a dog show over at the Wynn. His ransom will be a small fortune.”

“You kidnapped a dog for ransom?” Chanyeol closed his eyes for a moment, half-hoping it was all a dream. “Did anyone see you?”

“Nope. I was too busy fucking the owner for him to care.” Sehun pressed a kiss to the top of the dog’s head.

Chanyeol exhaled, reaching for the door. “Hope the dog likes taxis.”

“When is the ransom coming?” Chanyeol asked through gritted teeth. He held his foot a few inches off the stained carpeting, ready to hobble to the tiny bathroom for the third time in a twenty-four-hour period. He had stepped in yet another pile of dog shit and he had enough. Sure, the dog was adorable and he lowkey loved it, but the amount of accidents in the already tiny room was too much.

The dog, which Sehun had started to call Vivi, watched him from the bed, curled up on the pillow.

“Don’t know. The owner hasn’t gotten back to me,” Sehun answered. He was sitting at the rickety desk, a laptop Chanyeol conveniently “found” sitting in front of him.

“You asked for the ransom, _right_?” Chanyeol yelled from the bathroom. He reached for a paper towel and turned on the faucet.

“Yeah, of course,” Sehun called back.

“Hi Sarge.”

Chanyeol lost his balance, not helped by the fact he was still holding on foot up. He fell backwards, arms out, limbs flailing pathetically while he fell. He banged his elbow on the side of the tub and his head smacked against the cheap tile.

“Sarge!” Jongin was quick to bend over, arms outstretched, ready to help Chanyeol up. “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.”

Chanyeol hadn’t expected to see Jongin two feet from him. Shit, he was no longer used to being around someone who could just appear like that.

Jongin gripped Chanyeol’s arm and helped him to stand, mumbling apologies the entire time.

“It’s fine,” Chanyeol assured him, feeling like he needed three showers to get off the grime he collected from falling on the bathroom floor. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m in,” Jongin said, grinning. “For the plan thing,” he clarified. “The robbery.”

“You are?” Chanyeol broke out into a wide smile. “What changed your mind?”

Jongin shrugged. He turned and padded into the room, quickly zeroing in on the dog. “Is this him?” he cooed, leaning on the bed to pet the fluffy white canine.

“His name is Vivi,” Sehun explained. He got up and made his way to the bed, leaning over on Vivi’s other side. The dog looked bored and completely disinterested in the humans.

“He’s so cute, oh my god.” Jongin looked like he was about to cry in happiness.

Chanyeol sighed, watching the two men from where he stood at the bathroom door. “You joined because of the dog, didn’t you?”

“What?! No!” Jongin looked over his shoulder, feigning offense.

“Baekhyun gave me his cell and I texted him some pictures,” Sehun explained. “But whatever works.”

Chanyeol exhaled. “Yeah, whatever works.”

He didn’t have enough time to care about the methods, if the end result was good.

He only had four months.


	3. Progress?

A heist of this magnitude had hundreds of moving parts, maybe even thousands. Just like a military operation, precision was key. A millimeter off and the whole thing would go up in flames. 

The first of Park Chanyeol’s many problems was that he didn’t have exact measurements to even be able to tell if they would end up missing their mark. Casinos didn’t publicize the blueprints to their vaults or their cash cages for a good reason. 

Aside from doing some covert mapping of their own, which was theoretically feasible if not risky as fuck, their only hope lay with finding the firm that had built the vaults and cash cages. Vegas glitz and glamor turned out to be a small industry once Chanyeol started to research- one good design made the designer everyone’s go-to until the next fad came along. 

Klein and Olsen was a tidy architecture firm from the East Coast. Old money, Wall Street, and unexpectedly, Casinos. They had designed both casinos that Chanyeol was targeting, which meant they could fill in most of the missing puzzle pieces. 

Over some beers, with Vivi running around their legs, Chanyeol and Sehun tried to brainstorm how to steal from an architecture firm a thousand plus miles away -- neither of them was hackers, and they hadn’t gotten the tech guy onboard yet if they even could. 

“Why do they have to be in New York. Hell, if they were around, I could fuck it out of one of them,” Chanyeol said with a sigh. “Fuck game works every time.”

“Sometimes you disgust me,” Sehun drawled. 

“Hey! You use your dick to get what you want all the time!” Chanyeol pointed towards the fluffy dog. “You did it to get Vivi. Which, please remind me, wherein the fuck is the ransom you promised? I thought we were giving the dog back.”

Sehun waved his hand dismissively. He reached for his cigarettes and lighter. “It’s coming.”

Chanyeol didn’t believe a word of it. 

“You need to quit,” Chanyeol scooted his chair back. 

“I know,” Sehun agreed, ashing into the tiny glass hotel ashtray.  “So, Lu Han.”

Chanyeol pursed his lips. So, Lu Han…. 

  
  


“Can’t,” Lu Han answered, eyes never leaving the wall of screens. “Not now.” 

Chanyeol shifted in his seat, his jeans crinkling against the fake leather of the club chair. The Sports Book at Caesars Palace was deserted at this time of day. Most people didn’t find a promising enough race - or reason - to wander into the area until early afternoon. 

Lu Han wasn’t  _ most people _ . He looked like he had been there most of the night, and hell, judging by his wrinkled clothing and messy hair, maybe the day before. 

“If not now, does that mean you can in the future?” Chanyeol asked. He caught a whiff of Lu Han’s body odor and cringed. This was not the Lu Han he remembered from back in the army... 

“Depends.”

“On what?” Jongin asked. He was sitting next to Chanyeol, leaning forward with his hands clasped together. Gone was his magician’s assistant costume; in its place was a Rolling Stones T-shirt and ripped jeans.  Sehun was on the other side of Lu Han, expression unreadable. 

“On Minseok.” Lu Han started typing into the laptop that was perched precariously on his knee. An in-process horse race flashed on the screen.

“Care to elaborate?” Chanyeol felt his frustration mounting. Minseok? Sure, they were attached at the hip during their military days, but Baekhyun and Jongin had made it a point he wasn’t around, at least not at the moment. 

“He hasn’t called me in eleven months, Chanyeol. _ Eleven. Months _ . I have no idea who he has been fucking in that time or if he’s been eating. He needs to eat healthy, you know he forgets to eat healthy shit if he isn’t reminded.” Lu Han stood, his computer sliding to the ground with a dull thud. “Oh shit! Oh shit!”

Chanyeol watched the screen. The horse that was in the lead fell back, another horse bolting forward. 

“This wouldn’t happen if I could go to the track. Wouldn't happen if-”

“He was banned from the track for moving horses over the finish line,” Jongin whispered. “Amazing, they figured out he was cheating without specifying exactly how.” 

Using their powers in public was always a risky move, using them to cheat at a horse race was just plain stupid. They were an enigma, one that needed to be kept under wraps if they wanted the ROK government to forget about them. 

“Damn it!” Lu Han screamed as a horse crossed over the finish line. 

“So about Minseok,” Chanyeol attempted to steer Lu Han’s attention back to the matter at hand.

For the first time, Lu Han turned away from the wall of screens. Chanyeol immediately noticed the dark circles under his eyes, dipping down half his face. He looked like shit. Too skinny, too pale, and too tired. There was a stain on his shirt, and his pants were wrinkled. 

“Bring Minseok back, and I’ll do whatever you need me to.” Lu Han said softly, all of the fury gone. 

“Before anything, I need you to get yourself cleaned up. You need to take care of yourself, Lu Han.” Chanyeol was honestly worried about him. 

“Who is there to get cleaned up for?” Lu Han sighed. “If you bring Minseok back I’ll get cleaned up. Really. I’ll even stop this.” He gestured towards the machine. “While he is back. Please.”

“I should have known you two would be a package deal.” Chanyeol sighed. He ran his hand through his hair. “You promise if I get Minseok back, you’ll help?” He leveled Lu Han with a stern look. 

Lu Han nodded, but the gesture was more soulless than enthusiastic. “Yeah.”

“Any idea where we can find him?”

“If I knew I wouldn’t be asking you.” Lu Han sunk back down into the leather club chair, grabbing for his laptop. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, a race is about to start.” He waved them back in a dismissive gesture. 

Chanyeol sighed.

  
  


Sehun had a lot less patience than Chanyeol. He reached forward and pinched the back of Lu Han’s neck without further thought, resolved to get some information out of him. 

“What in the fuck,” Lu Han choked out, pulled upwards out of his club chair as Sehun stood. 

Lu Han fought back, pushing Sehun backward with an invisible force. Sehun stumbled, almost tripping over the chair behind him before he righted himself. 

Chanyeol glared at the pair, but Sehun ignored him. “We need some kind of idea of where to start looking, fuckhead. Is he in the States? Korea? Russia? The moon?” Sehun added, partially, to further antagonize Lu Han. He had missed teasing him over the years if he was honest. Lu Han was the one who was the toughest to crumble under Sehun's juvenile teasing, but when he did it was always glorious.

Lu Han snorted. “You found Junmyeon yet?”

At the name Sehun instinctively clenched his jaw, letting his guard down for a second. Lu Han saw it and laughed. 

“Minseok’s in Los Angeles, and while you’re on your way to find him go check out the charming little city of Indio. There’s a certain politician there who might be happy to see you. And when you meet him, tell him I don’t regret saying no.”

“No?” Sehun arched his eyebrow in question. 

Lu Han leaned in and cupped his mouth with his hand. In a half-whisper, he said, “Last time I saw Junmyeon, he was begging me to fuck him. I turned him down.”

Sehun moved without thinking. He delivered a kick to Lu Han’s balls, sending the disheveled man into a crouch. 

“What in the fuck was that for?!” Lu Han screamed, knowing full well what he had done to earn it. 

Chanyeol stepped forward and grabbed Sehun’s shoulder, shoving him back. “For fuck’s sake, we need to work together.”

Sehun gritted his teeth. He was happy to see Lu Han’s face turn bright red. Junmyeon would never beg Lu Han to fuck him. Never. 

_ Probably.  _

  
  


Chanyeol shoved Sehun ahead of him. He’d talk to him later, for now, he was too fixated on the man they had just met. 

“How did it happen?” Chanyeol asked, gesturing over his shoulder towards the direction of The Sports Book. They were walking through the casino, back towards the huge parking garage where they had left Baek’s car.

Jongin shrugged. “He’s always been good at stats. Ended up coming to Vegas to visit Baek and the next thing you know… Shit, he’s been on a downward spiral for years.”

Chanyeol felt a tug of guilt. He should have kept in contact with the guys, not let everyone scatter to the wind like they had. Could the other guys be in worse shape than Lu Han?

It was foolish to feel total responsibility for their actions, but he felt at least a partial responsibility. Chanyeol had been tasked with being their leader years before; if he felt nothing for their current state, he would never have earned the rank that he had. 

“It isn’t your fault.” Trust Jongin to read him like a book. “It’s been a long time, Chanyeol.”

_ Seven Years. _ Chanyeol didn’t respond, preferring to make the rest of the trek back to the car in silence. 

  
  
  


Find blueprints. Find the guys. Procure the weapons. Procure technology. Bribe the people who needed bribing. Secure the escape route. Disappear. Pay off the Triad. Hopefully live a long, full life without pissing off any other organized crime groups. 

“His name’s Anders Klein. Thirty-five years old, went to Princeton, degree in architecture, owns an expensive house in Westchester, and an apartment in Manhattan.” Sehun handed Chanyeol his phone. The man looked wholly unremarkable. Tidy. Clean. Very white. “He was the project lead on both of the casinos we’re interested in, and he also happens to be a frequent visitor to Las Vegas.”

Chanyeol looked up from the phone. “Holy shit. How did you figure it out?”

Sehun brushed his hair back from his forehead. “Contrary to popular opinion, I am not totally useless.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Chanyeol murmured. “Do you know when he’ll be in town next?”

“Yes, in fact, I do.” Sehun looked far too proud of himself, but he might have earned it. “There’s a convention being held at the Bellagio next week, and he is going to be there representing his firm.”

Chanyeol leaned in, tenting his fingers. “If we can get our hands on his computer…”

“Exactly.” 

“Hell, I almost forgive you for stealing that dog.” Chanyeol felt a surge of hope. Maybe his impossible to-do list wasn’t so impossible after all. 

_ Maybe.  _

Breaking into the man’s hotel room wouldn’t be a simple feat. It wouldn’t be the hardest thing that Chanyeol had ever done, but it certainly wouldn’t be the easiest, especially if he had to do it alone. They had already talked about who would make the trip to Los Angeles to find Minseok, deciding it wouldn’t be wise for both of them to go -- there was too much to do in Vegas. 

Sehun had been firm that he should be the one to go to L.A. Chanyeol had a feeling that had a lot to do with the knowledge Junmyeon could be found along the way, but he didn’t say it. Let Sehun have his own inner turmoil, Chanyeol was repressing enough for two people. 

“Wait to go to Los Angeles until next week. I’ll need your help handling Andrias Klein or whatever his name is.” 

“Can’t Jongin or Baekhyun help you?” Sehun raised his eyebrow in question. “Have Jongin pop into his room and pop out. It should be easy.”

“You think Jongin is ready to do that?” Chanyeol asked, honestly. Since they had been reunited he couldn’t help but sense something sad lingering behind Jongin’s smiles. It worried him. 

“Only one way to find out,” Sehun drawled. “The sooner I go, the sooner we get three more people on board this shit show. We can’t wait, I need to go.”

Chanyeol knew he was right and hated it. They needed to assemble their team as quickly as possible, which drove home just how little progress he had made locating the other guys: Yifan, Tao, Jongdae, Yixing...Kyungsoo. 

“Fine, but take your dog with you.” Chanyeol gestured towards Vivi. “I’m going to try to find another place for us to stay.”

“You don’t like our cozy little home?” Sehun sing-songed. 

“Fuck you.” Chanyeol tossed the phone back at Sehun, who dodged in time for it not to collide with his forehead. The phone landed on the shabby dresser behind him. A second later, Vivi turned to Chanyeol, baring his teeth and growling.

  
  


Sehun (and his mutt) left the next morning, sliding in behind the wheel of a car Jongin mysteriously showed up with. Chanyeol wasn’t going to ask questions, he knew better. It didn’t matter where the vehicle came from, just that it was there when they needed it. 

Chanyeol parked himself behind his laptop. He had mulled it over in his head the night before. He knew some tech guys from Korea, one from Taiwan. If he paid them enough, they could probably find the guys that Chanyeol couldn’t. He just needed them to name their price.

Half an hour and a lot of mistyped words later, he had a figure to work towards. One hundred thousand dollars would get him what he needed. He suspected they knew how much trouble he was in, that was the only reason they quoted him such a high price. Was his desperation known by all?

Chanyeol leaned back in his chair and dragged his hand through his hair. “Where in the fuck am I going to get one hundred thousand dollars?” He zoned out, staring at the dirty blinds. 

“I would help you, but I think I’m the last person you want to borrow money from.”

Chanyeol whirled around in his chair, almost falling as he turned. 

“Tao?” Chanyeol blurted out, supremely confused. He blinked. The man was still there, still standing in the middle of the room. He wasn’t hallucinating. 

“The one and only,” Tao held his arms out, his pink feather boa falling along his cheetah printed shirt. “Long time no see, Sarge.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !IMPORTANT! I have added a tag to this story that states future tags may be triggering. What in the hell does that mean, you ask? Well, it means I have a plot element in this story that people may find uncomfortable, but that I am not going to reveal now because it would ruin the progression of my plot. What this element isn’t: character death, underage stuff, incest, eating disorders, self-harm, or rape. Beyond that, I am only going to say it is something that some people may not be into. When this element appears, I will update the tags accordingly. 
> 
> Anywho~ Yay! Double update! Sorry, it took forever ~~ I went on a bit of a writing spree and finished chapters three through five ...and then it became apparent that to stick with my plot I really needed to re-do them. I had strayed a tad (huge) bit off course and lost the pacing of the story in my eagerness to get to a particular plot point. So yeah, here are the rewritten chapters. 
> 
> A huge thank you to the people who have helped me so far with the story, Moggy, and Sara for conceptualizing and Consorte for the more intricate details and pacing stuff. I really appreciate it <3


	4. Chance Encounter

**This is a double update! If you haven’t read Chapter 3, please do so before diving into Chapter 4. Thank you!**

Tao tapped the gun on the edge of the table. It was studded, a sparkle glinting with each move. Chanyeol wouldn’t expect him to brandish anything less. Tao had always been flashy, even as a kid. 

“So of course, I said yes. How could I turn down seeing my old friend.” Tao smiled sweetly. 

“You just told me you’re here to shoot me if I fail.” Chanyeol narrowed his eyes. “It sounds like the opposite of a happy reunion.”

“I never said I would for-sure shoot you!” Tao protested, tapping the gun on the table with fervor. “Only that I belong to an organization --”

“You mean the triad who is going to kill me if I don’t pay them back,” Chanyeol interjected.

“An org-an-i-zat-ion,” Tao repeated, “Who said my dear old friend might need some help. So here I am. Isn’t it great to be working together again!”

Chanyeol could see the black dragon tattoo snaking down Tao’s arms and recognized it for what it was. The Triad members all had it. Tao had it. And Tao made no secret of announcing why he had surreptitiously used his powers to gain entry to Chanyeol’s hotel room (“What? Stopping time and sneaking in with housekeeping’s key is frowned on now?”).

Chanyeol should have expected they would send someone to keep tabs on him, it only made sense. Hell, they had given him the chance to pay it back without outright killing him -- now they needed to make sure they got their money. 

Tao was his babysitter, and Chanyeol knew precisely how he felt about that - annoyed. 

“So when did you join your,” Chanyeol gestured towards the tattoo. “Org-an-iz-at-ion?”

“A couple years after we were discharged. I was bored, and they were hiring.”

“I didn’t think Traid’s put out help wanted ads,” Chanyeol deadpanned. 

“You’d be surprised what Triads do.” Tao settled into his seat. “So, tell me. What’s next? I assume you must be in the middle of big plans.”

Chanyeol swallowed. “Yes, of course,” he lied, feeling woefully behind schedule. “I was going to track you down, actually.”

“I’m flattered.” Tao grinned. “Now, why in the hell are you guys staying  _ here? _ I think I saw a cockroach.”

“It’s complicated,” Chanyeol muttered. They really needed a new place to stay...

  
  


He spotted the signs along US 95, coasting past them on his way to Los Angeles. It took him until the second sign to pull over so he could read the damn thing; the first sign just had him staring like an idiot. Junmyeon still tended to do that to him. 

Sehun leaned against the side of his car. He took out a cigarette and lit it, staring up at the billboard. 

Kim Junmyeon’s perfect face with its ideal smile loomed over the highway. His eyes had a sparkle that Sehun was sure was photoshopped in, it was cheesy and kind of creepy but still made Sehun feel ridiculous sensation in his chest. Junmyeon was wearing a blue suit with a red tie, a tiny little American flag pin was visible on his lapel. 

_ Vote Junmyeon Kim. Make America Wet Again.  _

Sehun blew out a puff of smoke. 

“Hyung, what did you get yourself into now,” he whispered, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

  
  


“The way I see it, you have two options.” Baekhyun held up two fingers. “You rob a bank like a normal criminal.” He put one finger down. “Or you set a pawn store on fire, then use the chaos to have Jongin pop inside and clean out the vault. Move the loot into untraceable currency and pay your Taiwan guy.”

“Why do I always have to do the robbing?” Jongin asked, his bottom lip jutting out. He nodded towards Tao. “He can stop time. Can’t he do it?”

“He’s babysitting,” Baekhyun tutted. “You can’t ask a babysitter to do the robbing.”

“I can do it,” Tao interrupted. “I love robbing.”

“Oh, wait!” Baekhyun held up his index finger. “There’s another option.”

“What?” Chanyeol took a sip of his drink. They were camped out at the red metal patio table that sat outside Baekhyun’s condo. It was rusty, and the sun was hot as fuck, but the beer was cold. He supposed that might be why Baekhyun suggested they leave the air conditioning of his condo - that, or he was afraid they would inadvertently destroy the place. 

“You give up and have Tao shoot you now.” Baekhyun managed to dodge the blow when Chanyeol reached out to smack him. “Sorry! It was too easy.”

Chanyeol frowned. “So what Pawn Store? And do they even carry that much money at one time?”

“I know just the place.” Jongin slapped his hand on the table. “It’s in midtown, totally off the beaten path, but they do mad business. And they have something worth at least that much money, probably more.”

“I’m listening.” Chanyeol leaned in. Honestly, he didn’t have much choice. 

  
  


_ Western Sands Motel _

Sehun coasted into the parking lot of the first budget hotel he could find -- he needed somewhere who would accept dogs, after all. A vacancy sign flickered near what he assumed was the office. The motel was painted seafoam green and had definitely seen better days. It was still afternoon, the lot wasn’t that full; somehow, he doubted it was ever full. 

He grabbed Vivi and headed for the office, the dog content to rest in his arms. 

“You have to behave here,” Sehun said quietly like he expected the dog to answer. 

A middle-aged man with a sleeve of tattoos was at the check-in desk, a black and white television with an antenna buzzing behind him. The place smelled musty. The carpeting was worn in several spots, and the paint on the walls was chipping. Lovely. 

“I need a room for tonight.” Sehun glanced around, noting the layout. Just in case. 

The man crossed his arms and stared Sehun up and down. “We only accept cash.” 

“That’s fine.” He had some money, Baekhyun had shoved it his way when he left. 

“Fifty dollars.” 

Sehun set Vivi down and fished in his pocket for cash. While he was digging for his wallet, he asked, “You know of a Junmyeon Kim?”

The man narrowed his eyes. “The politician? Yeah, his ads are all over the fucking town.” 

“What’s he running for?” Sehun opened his wallet and dug out a fifty, shoving it across the desk. 

“How the fuck would I know? I’m a felon, I can’t vote,” the clerk grumbled, grabbing the money and slapping the key down on the desk. “Room 32A. We don’t have room service. Check out is ten o’clock.”

Sehun bent over and scooped Vivi up; the dog yawned and settled into his arms. 

“That Junmoon guy, is he some kind of friend of yours?”

“You could say that.”

The clerk frowned, fingers tapping a pattern on the front desk. “Are you a cop?”

Sehun snorted. “Nope. Just an old friend looking to reconnect.” 

The man took a moment to respond like he was considering if Sehun was telling the truth. Apparently he was satisfied. “Can an  _ old friend _ spare some money for information?”

Sehun wordlessly put another fifty on the desk. 

“He spends his nights up at a strip club near Cathedral City.” The clerk slipped the money into his pocket. “Best time to go is after one, they don’t charge a cover then because the door guys are too shit faced.”

“Thanks.” Sehun turned to trudge from the office. 

So, Junmyeon was hanging out at a strip club. Sehun wasn’t sure how he felt about that information. Junmyeon was never the strip club type, at least back in the day. He must be using it for some other reason, Sehun decided. He was probably running some racket out of there, or using it for a purpose Sehun couldn’t yet conceive.

Yes, that had to be the answer…  _ hopefully.  _

  
  


The sun was beginning to set, but it wasn’t entirely dark. The street lights flickered on, a soft orange glow over the cracked and worn sidewalks. Chanyeol found himself sitting in the backlot of a shuttered barbershop, the back window cracked against iron bars, glass strewn on the pavement. Through the alley that ran next to the barbershop was the back of a specific Pawn Store.

Chanyeol checked his watch. They had agreed to let the flames go at quarter after eight before it was entirely dark. The shop was open until ten, though the inside was locked down tight after sundown, with only a window open for people looking to pawn things. 

The plan they had worked out had a lot of ways to fail. Baekhyun would arrive at the window and pawn something inconsequential, but valuable enough for the cashier to open the cash vault. When the vault was being opened, Baekhyun would signal with a barely-there stream of light, letting Chanyeol know it was time for the fire. 

Chanyeol would start a small fire near the building, enough to distract the cashier and any other employees inside. Once they were distracted, Jongin would pop inside to unlock the door, and once the door was opened, he would signal to Tao, who would stop time and enter the store to take anything valuable. Finally, they would all pile into Baekhyun’s car and get the hell out of the area. 

Now, hopefully, it worked. 

Chanyeol tapped his foot on the ground, waiting. At sixteen minutes after eight, a beam of light shot up from the front of the store. Chanyeol shut his eyes and concentrated, the warm, liquid feeling coursing from his core, down his arm. The fire ripped from him, shooting out in a burst, before hitting the side of the building. 

Using his abilities always left him feeling light-headed and dizzy. He put his hand on his temple, blinking towards the alley. 

Smoke began to rise almost immediately. A pile of rubbish had been shoved there earlier in the day by Jongin, and based on the winds, the smoke would be carried directly into the pawn store’s window. 

Chanyeol turned and began the walk to the getaway car. His hands were marked with carbon, the telltale black smudges that came whenever he used his power. He shoved them in his pocket and kept his head down. 

Baekhyhun had parked a few blocks away, in the parking lot of a busy strip mall. Behind him, he could hear a commotion from the direction of the store, and at one point he felt almost like the world stuttered around him like he lost focus and then regained it. He knew from experience that was Tao using his power, time was bent to his will for a brief moment, so short those who had no conception of the power Tao wielded wouldn't notice it. 

Chanyeol kept his head down and shuffled down the street. He had to wait at a crosswalk with traffic whizzing by, waiting for the light to change.

He was the first one to make it to the strip mall, honing in on the car and making a beeline for it. The stores of the mall were brightly lit, and the parking lot was almost full. Good. Easier to blend in. 

Chanyeol was a few steps from the car when he heard his name called. It was so unexpected he didn’t stop, sure he misheard. No one knew him there, at least no one who would call his name in a place like that. He must be mistaken. 

“Chanyeol?” This time it was closer. 

Chanyeol looked over his shoulder, then immediately looked forward again. His heart began to thud as he walked the last few feet to the car. He could hear his name again, louder this time. 

“Chanyeol!”

He grabbed the door handle and threw it open, sliding into the driver’s seat. How...why...

_ Please don’t let him follow me. Please. Please. This has to be a joke. I’m not ready to face him yet. No. No. _

Tap, tap, tap. “Chanyeol, I know it’s you.”

Chanyeol’s mouth felt dry. He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them and facing the man whose finger was tapping incessantly on the car window.

“Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol said quietly, finger pressed against the window button, heart thundering in his chest, his every instinct telling him to run. “What a pleasant surprise.”

The look on Kyungsoo’s face told him the feeling wasn’t mutual -- he looked like he was ready to kill. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kyungsoo makes an appearance lkadjfklafdj. Muahahahaha. Thank you to everyone who has been reading, I really appreciate it. Let me know what you think of the story so far in the comments and I shall love you forever ^^


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